The Unexpected
by BedeFan
Summary: John goes for a ride, find memories that still haunt him, and maybe something to bring joy to Victoria. Rated T just because there is a bit of violence, not graphic, and a sad death. The story is complete and intended to stand alone but it is also open-ended.


Big John Cannon rode through the High Chaparral gate well after midnight, hours overdue. Normally he hated to find his wife, Victoria waiting up for him; she needed her rest just as much as he needed his. Telling her not to do it was pointless. She had a mind of her own, he had learned that very early in their marriage. He knew she would be there, and there would be something for him to eat in the kitchen.

John stepped down from his horse and headed towards the house. A ranch hand would see to the horse. Victoria would see to John. The door opened before he reached it and she was there, just as beautiful as the first time he saw her now several years ago. The look of love and relief on her face quickly turned to concern. John was holding one arm tight to his body, he was covered in scratches and cuts and there was an odd bulge on his chest under his coat. Worse, he looked worn, drained, bone tired and there was an incredible sadness in his eyes. She knew him to well to not know the shadow of grief when it crossed his face. She had not seen that look on her husband in quite some time, but it was there now.

He moved slowly with his free arm to unbutton his coat. Victoria watched as he then reached in and brought out a baby. So tiny, the little girl looked too small to be real in John's large hands. Victoria could not believe what she was seeing and looked from the baby to her husband in wonder.

"John?"

"Yeah," he answered, barely above a whisper. His voice was hoarse. "Here, you take her, she's brand new and she's all alone in this world."

Victoria held the tiny infant, so, so perfect as her mind was flooded with questions. Focusing on the baby, the questions would wait.

"Oh John, she is beautiful - I will take care of everything...I have your supper in the kitchen, there are so many things I want to ask...but you look so tired, my darling..."

John was too tired to eat, nearly dead on his feet. He went up to their room. He felt bad for leaving Victoria to deal with the surprise of a baby all alone, but something told him nothing could make her happier. He was asleep, still half dressed when Victoria came to their room.

* * *

It had been a beautiful day and for once, John wasn't worried about anything. In fact, he was happy. He was on his way back alone with a fist full of new contracts with the Army in hand and for once all was right with his world. Then came the bullet. It missed his head by the merest of fractions. So close he felt it. Instantly there were men shouting, more shots, the pounding of hooves - John put the spurs to his horse, Billy and got off the trail, through a thicket and up into the rocks. More shots rang around him and he saw his attackers, bandits. Not very good ones, but plenty mean he expected. They probably didn't expect him to fight back, but John was a crack shot with his Henry rifle, dropping two bandits in quick succession. The rest decided it wasn't worth it and rode off, leaving their fallen comrades where they waited for a few minutes to see if they would re-group and return; they were not the kind to come back.

He made his way down to the fallen men. They were dead as he expected. They must have just robbed someone, one has some paper money stuffed into a pocket, the other a woman's necklaces. John emptied their pockets, what they had wasn't theirs after all and gathered their horses which their companions had not bothered to do. He was turning back towards the High Chaparral when the smell of smoke drifted by him. "Might be who got robbed," he thought to himself. There would probably be a sight he didn't want to see, but could be someone still alive and in trouble. He followed the smoke.

He hadn't gone far when his worst fears were realized. A couple of wagons overturned and one on fire. A few horses scattered around. He counted one, two, five dead men. A dead woman, no two dead women. Their belongings were thrown about, the bandits had searched roughly but thoroughly. There was nothing that could be saved in the burning wagon. In the other, he found her. A woman, heavily pregnant and nearly dead. She looked much like a young Annalee.

* * *

John did his best to make her comfortable. She was too weak to say much. Her name was Emily, they were from Virginia, like John and had come west to make a new start. She was in labor, John knew enough to know that. It was too early. The baby wasn't due for - John couldn't quite make out how long she said. But it was too early, he understood that plain enough.

Taking fire from the burning wagon, water from his cantineand a kettle he found in the brush, he did the first thing he remembered to do at a time like this. He boiled water. Emily was too weak to be moved and he couldn't leave her to go for help. She kept asking about her husband. John assumed he was one of the dead men outside. Now knowing any other way, he told her straight out her husband was dead. She understood, and let out a little cry when a contraction caught her by surprise. John looked for something to give her, medicine, food, a drink - he didn't know what he should give her, all he knew was she was in pain and there was nothing he could do.

She had been injured by the bandits, a bullet had grazed her and then she was hurt more when the wagon overturned. The bandits probably thought she was dead as she kept fading in and out. John did what he could. He knew it would not be enough. He was going to lose her or the baby, probably both.

* * *

Waiting like this, unable to do much of anything was hard on John. it gave him too much time to think about things he had long ago pushed down deep. He was thinking of his home when he and Annalee were married. His Pa was dead by then, it was just his Ma and Brother Buck on the farm. Annalee's family were their neighbors. They had always been sweet on each other and everyone just expected they'd get married when the time was right. Some folks talked about a war coming but John didn't believe it. He and Annalesswere old enough and the farm was doing well. John and Buck built a small cabin a little ways off from the main house, by a pretty locust grove Annalee liked. She and John would walk there often while courting. Now they would live there together as man and wife.

The cabin done, they married. At first everything was perfect. The farm continued to do well. Ma was still healthy, though she missed Pa terribly. Buck was wild but a hard worker. Between them John felt they could really make something of the farm. Maybe buy more land. Maybe start raising horses to sell. He had dreams of something bigger, he just didn't know where exactly to find it or what exactly it was. He and Annalee were happy and almost right off, she became pregnant. When she told John he was the happiest man in the world. She'd had an easy time of it – said she wanted at least a dozen more, but then she became sick right after Billy Blue was born. The doctor said she had milk fever. It was bad for a time, but she recovered. She just wasn't able to nurse the baby, but he grew just fine anyway.

It seemed like no time at all before she was pregnant again. John thought it seemed awful soon, but his Ma and Annalee said not to worry. Looking back he realized after the fact they were just saying that for his sake, not because they were not worried themselves. Annalee was due at the end of February, just in time for spring. As with her first baby, the pregnancy had been easy. Then a late snow came just as she went into labor. It was a terrible storm and there was no way to fetch the doctor. Annalee's labor went into a second day. The baby was breach. John and his family knew they could lose them both. Buck did his best to keep little BlueBoy busy and out of the way. In the end, Annalee lived but lost the baby. She grieved as did John in his way. They buried the baby, a girl, next to John's Pa. His Ma said she was a little angel in Heaven now, she'd keep Pa company. For John the grief was sometimes like a numbness, other times a terrible pain. Everybody said to think about the future, and the future children would help ease the pain.

The doctor said otherwise. The breach delivery had been hard on Annalee. She'd been hurt inside. It would be best if she didn't have anymore babies. If she became pregnant again, it could cost her her life. Annalee longed for more children but John would not risk it. Not then, maybe in a few years, maybe the doctor would say they could try, but not now. So Annalee poured her love and longings and grief into every waking hour she watched her boy,, Billy Blue. At times John worried she was smothering the boy, but it was what she needed and he would give her anything she needed if he could. He would give her the world if he could. Then the war he thought was not possible came. For the first time in their lives he and Buck were at complete odds. They both felt the need to serve. John went with the North, Buck the South leaving Ma, Annalee and Billy Blue on the farm where John had such hopes to build a life for his family.

John's dream of building something with Annalee ended with an Apache arrow one night, years ago now. Now he was married to Victoria, the wife he had not wanted but now was the center of his world. Without her, nothing he had built would mean anything to him. The day was moving on and soon she would be wondering where he was.

* * *

Nothing John could do for Emily seemed to be of much help. She was growing weaker. He couldn't make the baby come any faster – babies come in their own time his Ma had said. He couldn't stop the labor either. All he could do was wait as the shadows grew longer on the ground.

John had found some letters while stretching his legs – Emily was out cold at that moment and he found out her full name was Emily Taylor, wife of George Taylor. A picture proved George was one of the dead men outside. John tucked the picture and letter into his saddle bag. He found a family Bible with some names and added that too. He unsaddled the bandit's horses and let them roam with the others.

It was almost sundown when Emily became lucid for a few moments. They had lost most of their family in the war. Consumption had taken her sisters, the war had taken George's brothers. They were suppose to go to a ranch in Texas but things didn't work out so they were pushing on west until it all ended here. She had wanted to go to Oregon, she had heard it was beautiful, then she gasped, another contraction, and begged John to take care of the baby even if he had to take the baby, please... the baby had no one else and deserved a chance, then her eyes became glazed and her breathing shallow but it was enough, the baby had crowned and slipped on out even as its mother's life slipped away.

John cleaned the baby as best he could, but didn't cut the cord too close – he wasn't sure how close was too close so he left plenty. Victoria would know what to do. He wrapped poor Emily's body up as best he could; He'd send people back in the morning to bury the dead. He found some baby things that had not been damaged and wrapped the baby up before tucking it into his coat to keep it warm. It was dark outside now and the desert could get chilly mighty fast. With the baby safe inside his coat, he pointed Billy towards the High Chaparral and tried for home again. The long ride in the dark gave him too much time to think of his dead wife buried at the ranch, his dead daughter buried far away in a place he once thought he'd never leave with his Ma and Pa. He realized grief never leaves, its always there waiting for you to come back to it.

His thoughts turned to Victoria, waiting for him. She wanted a baby, longed for a baby, prayed for a baby, She prayed to this saint and that saint she saw the doctor regularly but no baby. She was an "Old Maid" in the words of her brother when they married but she wasn't that old. John knew of no reason why he couldn't father a child, it just hadn't happened for them. For John, well he was of an age to be wanting grandchildren, but it hurt him to know how much it hurt Victoria. He never pretended to be a man that understood women, but he knew both his wives well enough to know that for some women at least a baby was a most precious gift. If he brought this baby to the High Chaparral Victoria might not let it go. Would that be such a bad thing?

* * *

Before Victoria got to their room to find her half-dressed husband sound asleep, she had fixed a bed for the baby in a drawer pulled from a dresser in Blue's room, fed the baby, burped the baby, checked the baby from head to toe for any problems, washed the baby, cut that umbilical cord, wrapped the baby and put her down to sleep and decided she could not love the baby more if it were her very own. She brought the baby and the make-shift baby bed to their bedroom, being as quiet as possible. She woke John enough to finished getting undressed, he could sleep in their bed in his long johns but not in his boots, and saved her questions for tomorrow. She prayed to all the saints John would give her the answer her heart most wanted to hear.


End file.
